Sincerely Anderson
by Mordant Wordsmith
Summary: This is Anderson's view of things in the Sherlock world. This like his diary. Want to read his feel on things, want to get into his mind? You've come to the right place.
1. Journal Entry 1

Sincerely** Anderson**

_July 25, 2010_

My wife went out-of-town yesterday, so I had our flat to myself. It was quite nice. Then, this morning, I woke up to the sound of knocking at my front door. It was Sgt. Sally Donovan! I was just about to ask her what she was doing at my flat when she pounced on me, and started snogging me. I was absolutely petrified. I had no idea what had come over her.

She stopped kissing me and ran to shut the door. Then she grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the couch. I was still too baffled to object. She got down on her knees, and started to speak, but I was in too much shock to comprehend what she was saying. I really needed a blanket. Then she pulled down my trousers and started doing things that aren't really appropriate to write about... But the weird thing was tha- that I... I actually sort of enjoyed it. Help! I'm a married man!

I suppose that's all for now for today...

Sincerely,

Anderson

* * *

_same day_

We had a press conference today about the four people who committed suicide. They're all slightly linked, because they all used the same pill. But how can suicides be connected?

During the conference, Sherlock hacked into a cell tower, sending a text message to everyone in the every room, stating _WRONG! _every time we said something. Detective Inspector Lestrade ignored it, and continued to say they were serial suicides.

All the bodies have been dead ends so far, except for this last one. The woman in pink. She scratched a word into the wooden floor before she died:_ rache,_ the German word for revenge. Everything was going fine at the crime scene, until Sherlock showed up. He refused, point-blank, to put on the anti-contamination suit. He could have contaminated the entire crime scene! God he's so annoying.

I mean, he just struts up to the crime scene with that army bloke, John Watson, and acts like he's running the scene. And then, while he's examining the victim, I make an attempt to give him a piece of information about the note, and he slammed the door in my face, as if I were an annoyance… I'm a bit sad now, but it's alright.

I suppose that's all for now

Sincerely,

Anderson


	2. Journal Entry 2

**Sincerely Anderson**

_July 26, 2010_

Sherlock has done it again. He's cracked another case. Last night around ten, D.I. Lestrade ordered a drugs bust at Sherlock and John's flat. We found out that Sherlock had the pink woman's case. Donovan suspected that Sherlock hadn't just found the case. But we discovered that not to be true when Sherlock arrived and explained to Lestrade what had happened.

Then we started working again. Sherlock did his whole psycho thing, while the rest of us did our jobs. After about 5 minutes of this, Sherlock told the entire room to be silent. I was obviously annoyed by this, so I just looked at him with utter disapproval. Apparently he could feel my eyes glaring into his soul, so he told me to turn around because my face was "putting him off". I don't even see how that's possible. Is my face really that bad? This sort of brought back some bad childhood memories. I'll talk about those later…

So as I said, he was doing this psycho thing, and that old woman that I think is his housekeeper told him that his cab arrived, but Sherlock said that he had never ordered a cab and ushered her out of the room. Then he started thinking again, and he said something about a phone. About that time, Dr. Watson got on his computer and looked up the location of the phone. It said that the phone was in the apartment. Lestrade ordered us to look for a mobile, but no luck there. Then, out of the blue, Sherlock just left. He said that he needed some "fresh air". We were all waiting for him for about 30 minutes when we just lost all hope. He was nowhere to be found.

It turns out that he was with the murderer. The man turned out to be a cabbie. Who would have thought? What he would do was pick up the people, bring them to some strange destination and talk to them. Apparently the played a "game". The cabbie had two pills. One was deadly, and the other harmless. All the person had to do was choose one. The cabbie always won. The man had been diagnosed with an aneurysm, and the doctors told him that he only had 3 months to live, so he killed the people just to satisfy the thought that he's outlived another person.

He tried to play the game with Sherlock, but that obviously didn't was in "shock" as Lestrade put it. Even though all of us knew that Sherlock was absolutely fine. And it was all over just like that.

I suppose that's all for now…

Sincerely,

Anderson.


	3. Journal Entry 3

_July 30, 2012_

So i guess now would be a good time to talk about my childhood. I suppose that this will sort of explain why I take the things that Sherlock says to me so offensively.

My childhood was shit. I would get teased for being ugly, a nerd, etc. People hated me, and I was so confused as to why. I mean just from the start. In my first year, all of the other kids would play on the playground and I would sit alone under a tree. The older kids would come and pick on me and call me names. Eventually, it got so bad that I had to start sitting next to my teacher. This went on for several years. I think once, a new kid came up to me and acted like he was going to be my friend. But that soon ended when the other kids told him about me. I think the one thing that was keeping me alive for the time being was, I guess the fact that I knew that I was probably the smartest of all those other gits. I actually had a chance after school. I could be so much more than any of them. I just had to wait. I had to have hope.

Well that's all I needed until Jim came along. Ah, Jim. He was so nice to me when no one else was. I remember the first time we met. It was the first day of my 5th year when he came. I was lonely for so long, until he came. I was sitting at my usual spot in the cafeteria (by myself) when we met. He walked into the cafeteria wearing a red cap, navy hoodie, and blue jeans. He looked so confused and lost. I remember thinking that I could possibly have a chance to make an actual friend. I mean, it was worth a shot right?

Once he got his food, he looked for a place to sit. I was hoping he'd come to my table, but I'd realized that it was a stupid thought; why would he sit by me? So I put my head down and started crying. I heard the sound of chair being pulled out and a tray being set down. I looked up to see Jim staring at me. I quickly wiped my tears, sniffed and smiled at him. He asked me why I was sitting alone, and I told him my situation. I also told him that he shouldn't talk to me unless he wanted to commit social suicide. Apparently he didn't care, because he stayed there with me. And after that, we just clicked. We were attached at the hip.

Even after Jim came, people just couldn't leave me alone. Jim was sort of 'fresh meat' for them. They found a new reason to pick on me. They started calling me a "faggot" and they told me that I'm gay, and in high school, they would start saying these awful things to Jim too. I felt so guilty, and I was so confused as to why he insisted on being my friend. I mean yes, we were great friends, he was the best friend anyone could ever ask for, but why would he keep putting up with all of that bullshit? Jim would get mad when I brought it up, because he said that it shouldn't matter what anyone has to go through for a friend. He was really the best friend I ever had. We'd been friends all through high school, and then we'd separated when I went to university. I remember him telling me about how he didn't want to go to college with all of the normal people. After I'd left, we'd tried to keep in contact, but we failed and never really hung out again. I'll never forget him though.

If Jim ever reads this, I just want you to know that you were literally my only friend. And I'd like to thank you for being there for me. Through everything. You are an amazing man and I hope that you are doing well in life. Thank you, Jim Moriarty. Bless you.

Sincerely,

Anderson


End file.
